


Dissonance

by solaarii



Series: deconstructing a monster [2]
Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate - Character Names, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solaarii/pseuds/solaarii
Summary: When kids get hurt, they cry. When I got hurt, other people cried for me.





	Dissonance

Himi Kuu is a quiet, bookworm type. She wears her dresses neat unlike Midori who sports ruffled sundresses with animal mascots on each pleat. Kuu doesn't wear anything that distinguishes herself from the crowd of hopping and bumping elementary schoolers. She's just there with tiny fists clasping her school bag. She stands around like everything in the world is on mute, and she still does to this day.   
  
A very small part of me naively believed that I met a like-minded ally. I wouldn't go so far as to call her a friend - because friends have a mutual emotional attachment and as far as I'm concerned, this unlikely association was built upon misunderstandings and necessity - but I held some hope that she could be someone I could relate to. She didn't care about the noise around us and easily drowned it all out with a book. Her expression hardly budged. She didn't jump or laugh or move as actively as everyone else our age. She was like me, but didn't force herself to fit in into a poorly outfitted mask. And she was okay with that.   
  
I wanted to be okay like that; I wanted to know her secret.   
  
I'm still not sure how Midori patched Kuu into this mismatched pattern of a rising socialite who rivaled a babbling brook and a hollowed outcast lying her way into society.   
  
It's obvious I'd never make friends when showing these monochrome colors of mine - a dull, unsatisfying and lacklustre,  rainbow with each hue grayer than the last. I never wore accessories and wore whatever my mom picked out for me. I had no preference and even when my dad says that I could choose whatever dress I wanted in a store - one of those warm shopping trips without mom - I couldn't. He urged me, plucking out a much too bright yellow that blinded like the sun or a gentle baby blue that reminded me of the sea. Either way, these colors drowned me - suffocating my listless hues and unsuspectingly adding another layer of normalcy onto my facade.   
  
Meanwhile, Midori burst with colors - both in clothing and in personality. Her eyes gleamed like precious gems and her hair shone in the sun like it was the season of spring taking its first steps out from the snow blanketed ground. The way she sprung about, contending gravity, and laughed away her worries brought a liveliness I had no way of replicating.   
  
Her loquacious nature often turned off people from conversation. Words fell from her mouth at an insane rate and I could pass conversation with nodding my head with an aching smile and regurgitating a few bland phrases that could mean whatever tone that fit the topic. She was the bright and cheery song bird - chirping in tune to its own beat - and I was the tone deaf cicada - screaming constantly for someone to hear me and give me a sensation others were blessed with. There were times I envied Midori; as for others, I condemned her.   
  
Midori had everything I wanted and was grateful for each and every small happening in her life. A ladybug landed on the corner of her book - celebration! The clouds shifted to cover the sun just a teeny bit, giving her shade - constant praise! She finished all of her milk, something that she had trouble with - and then a self celebratory pat on the back.   
  
That wasn't fair - I want to find joy in the smallest things, but it never happens. And so, I nod. I smile. And I give a very indifferent congratulations with feigned interest and even faker happiness for my 'friend'.   
  
Kuu did a similar tactic, but sometimes I could see a genuine flash of interest to Midori's influx of new information. Midori could talk about how many blades of grass she counted in her backyard and there'd be a significantly minute change in Kuu's expression. My eyes didn't deceive when a small smile or frown blossomed into view, but that small, naive part of me denied its existence. I thought that if I acknowledged it, then I'll be alone all over again.   
  
And once more, I cut myself off from reality.

 

* * *

  
  
During the winter of our first year as "best friends forever", Midori brought a stack of origami paper and a book she got from her mom. She jumped into the classroom, rocking back and forth, and slapped the parcel on my desk. Kuu raised her head from her book and her crimson eyes stared a whole right into Midori's head. Finally, the perpetrator of our shattered quiet time before first period declared,   
  
"Let's learn origami!" She puffed out her chest and proclaimed it with a voice that shook my very core. Where did this energy come from? How does one gain an enthusiasm for flimsy sheets of paper? But I digressed and did the same routine: I nodded. I smiled. I went along with the motions once more.   
  
There are a lot of downsides to feeling empty: not understanding people's feelings; being unable to pick up social cues; a very dry sense of humor (if one could call it that); being unable to empathize... you name it.   
  
But, there's a few positives on not being distracted by trivial things like emotions. Your mentality is very logic-based and problem solving is a breeze. Frustrations can be connected to the lack of ability one has or the understanding of a certain problem. Emotionally, frustration can trigger an anger aimed at oneself or the obstacle - in Midori's case, the sheet of origami paper that became ruin in her hands - and distract them from the goal. Logically, frustration can mean that this direction of problem solving doesn't work and so, a new one is needed.   
  
While Midori whined over the increasing creases and tears on her paper, Kuu mumbled into incoherence. I, on the other hand, saw the instructions, reviewed them, and proceeded to replicate the image.   
  
It was simple to me when directions are forward and no fluff interjected in the passages. If life had instructions, then it'd be easier to live. There was a starting point and a goal and you didn't need emotions to complete the course. All one needed was the cold, hard facts of logic.   
  
I finished the crane with ease and reached for another sheet as the other two stopped their fiddling and were in awe of my craftsmanship.   
  
"You're really good at this, Yan-chan!" Midori was once again the first to praise me. She did it so often for the smallest things that I felt numb. I knew she meant it - it's Midori, every dumb word that comes out of her mouth was packed with feelings and sincerity - but it didn't move me. "You're gonna be the best, best origamist ever!"   
  
"I thought I was going to be the best wife ever?" I attempted a slight jab, unsure if Midori would remember such a passing comment. The only reason I recalled something so inconsequential was due to my mom's reaction to the retelling. Her eyes lit up in a way that only did when aimed towards my dad. Ruby red lips curled into a smile that caused me to flinch with how aching and tedious it looked, and strong arms wrapped around me.   
  
I'm not sure how often my mom hugged me, but I assured myself that she never gave me such a warm embrace in recent memory. She smothered me in her chest and while it was warm and loving, I felt suffocated and trapped. "You're going to make a wonderful wife," mom whispered fondly in my ear that day, "it runs in the family; but first you need to find your true love. Your soulmate. Your sole purpose for living. Your..."   
  
I denied the continuation of that memory - the chill I felt from within my mom's arms pricked at my skin. If I weren't so pale skinned already, I wonder if anyone would have noticed?   
  
"Ne, Yan-chan!" For once, I was thankful for Midori's loud and intrusive voice. "Can you make me a crane too? Oh or maybe a flower? I want a dog, and a frog, and a cat, and a rabbit, and a ninja, and a dinosaur, and a..." She continued prattling as she counted everything she wanted on her fingers.   
  
"Yan...chan..." Kuu's hoarse voice finally climbed out of the noise of the babbling brook. She held her piece of paper up to show me - it was crudely folded with marks of trial and error embedded on the surface - and had a frown on her lips. Was she about to cry? I don't know how to talk to someone who cries. "Can you show me how you made the crane? I wanna make one for my sister for her birthday."   
  
I blankly considered her request and smiled and nodded. I didn't care about her sister or her sister's birthday. If someone told me to do something, I had no qualms to acquiesce the order. Other people would complain and mumble, but I just rolled with the punches. I guess one had to be normal to feel the need to be angry over trivial things.   
  
I undid the shabby folds and recalled the process in my head. It was a simple job of turning the sheet into a crane, and I could easily do it without flipping to the page. But, that'd be weird and strange and something that could bring attention to me. So I didn't.   
  
Last time I was able to repeat a passage or do something after having only seen it once brought controversy in my old school. Classmates thought I was cheating. They didn't like how the class freak could be better than them and show them up in class. They didn't like how I knew all of the answers. They didn't like that the teacher praised me on tests. They didn't like how I never showed them my homework. They didn't like anything about me that stood out.   
  
So I stopped standing out. I quietly shuffled into a shell, hoping they'd finally leave me be. But even in the confines of this shell, they brought a hammer down on it until they could destroy it and expose my weaknesses. There was no reward for either of us, but I guess they got their wish in not wanting to be shown up by the class freak; I transferred out and moved back to my parents' hometown.   
  
They thought I was some impregnable force that couldn't be taken down unless I was done in by dirty tricks. They treated me as some alien lifeform, unrelenting in my stance to tower over them. But they were terribly wrong. If they took the time to really, truly, and actually look at me...they'd know I was an empty husk, programmed to wander through life until I die.   
  
All I knew was the concrete ideas of whatever is handed to me. It was the reason why I aced math test after math test and why I often finished every sheet full of math equations in a snap. Numbers are easy to understand; they're simple. Two plus two equals four. There was nothing complicated about that and no attachment or emotional involvement necessary to carry onward. I didn't need to know why two needed to turn into a four or if the two 'learned something along the way' - it was just there to be absorbed and reformed.   
  
My old classmates found it tricky and difficult and refused to look at it from a logical standpoint. They didn't want to understand numbers; they didn't want to understand me. I didn't care, though, I never did; whatever they thought and disliked was their business. I just happened to take form of their common malice and I wound up here:   
  
Wearing a mask.   
  
Pretending to be a friend.   
  
And making a crane for someone who asked me to.   
  
In contrast to myself, Midori and Kuu excelled in the arts and reading the tone of stories we all had to pick out from assignment passages. They could read how a small village girl longed for the world outside her small, cramped hut, and that her heart condition limited her means. They scribbled about how the girl was sad and that made them sad. Midori hugged the book the short story came from and kept saying how she wished she could hug the girl too and show her all of the "fun things this world had to offer."   
  
As for me, I had no idea. The girl never cried to show such grief nor did she do more than watching others go about their daily life. The girl in the story just smiled and did her labor like any regular person. Teacher tried to articulate the feelings in the passage and I had to process those words like they touched my heart. They didn't. They dissipated as soon as they reached my ears.   
  
All too soon, I felt my mask crack but as soon as teacher turned her back, I took another slip of paper and mended the damage. It hadn't been too long since I conjured up this facade and the fact that it nearly collapsed told me that I had much to learn. Spending time with this Taniguchi Midori and this Himi Kuu seemed like it'd solidify the persona, or I'd like to hope.   
  
I don't want to end up like the girl in the hut - trapped by her limitations and wishing and envying strangers passing her by like she was nothing. I refused. Because unlike her, I could do something. But unlike her...it doesn't feel meaningful.   
  
I absentmindedly reached for the origami instruction booklet and felt a short lived sting. Blankly, I stared down at my finger, curiously watching as a droplet of red appeared. In contrast to my pale complexion, it was a glaring speck that trickled down my finger and then spiraled to my knuckle. I had to go wash my hands soon or it’ll make a mess. A rational plan that shouldn’t take more than a minute and I can show Kuu how to fold the crane.   
  
"Yan-chan!" Midori cried, tears welling up in the corners of her emerald optics. I blinked at her, wondering why she was crying and looked in pain while I was the one who got the cut. Kuu quickly got up to get a teacher with an alertness never before seen. In that brief moment of witnessing Kuu's exasperation, I realized something very certain:   
  
She wasn't like me at all.   
  
My only hope in finding camaraderie in this relentless oppressing world died in an instant and I had to accept the fact that I was all alone.

 

* * *

  
  
"It was only a paper cut, thankfully," teacher reassured as I stared down at my bandage. It was plain. No cutesy patterns or anything that'd stand out. It was just the way I liked it. "You're a brave girl, Ayano-chan, a lot of kids your age would've cried." She meant it as a compliment - why, though, why should I care about what the majority of my peers would do in this situation? For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be like the majority. I wanted to be part of this big secret that the whole world was in on and collectively left me out of - and beamed a smile aimed to elevate whatever anxiety she assumed I had lying in wait.   
  
"Oh..." I responded, and gave my best impression of a bashful smile. "It didn't hurt that much." A fact. I barely registered it and would've taken care of it myself, but Midori gave too much attention. When she started crying, everyone in the classroom stared. They did nothing. Said nothing. Kuu was the only one to react with the common sense to go to the teachers' offices to get an adult, but that logical conclusion was only reached because of emotions.   
  
If I were in that situation, I would've gotten the first aid kit myself and treated the cut. Midori would still be crying, sure, but the source of her tears would've been taken care of immediately. Kuu, on the other hand, rushed to get outside aid. Midori was calmed down and as soon as she stopped sniffling, I was bandaged up.   
  
"Still..." teacher murmured, grasping at straws. I appreciated her, really, she was more attentive than my last teacher, but she was too involved with student affairs than necessary. "Well, next time try to be more careful when handling books. They're our friends, but sometimes, we're clumsy and get hurt by them too! So remember, proper handling!"   
  
I smiled, I nodded, and I left the room.   
  
I supposed I was being clumsy. I stared down at the band aid wrapped around my finger and frowned more in disappointment than displeasure. So it was my fault for getting hurt, I assumed. It was because of mishandling the book that I got cut in return and if I followed teacher's line of logic about books being like friends then...   
  
Then that means that if I mistreat my friends then they'll hurt me without warning.

 

* * *

  
  
"Yan-chan!" Midori's ever present voice rang from down the hall and was followed by a desperate stampede of clicking and clacking. She lunged right at me, and I stumbled back, catching her in an awkward embrace. "I'm so so so so so so so so sorry!" she cried, squeezing me tight. She was warm and overexcited and this embrace was nothing like mom's - this felt voluntary and safe and innocent. Mom's was commanding, knowing, and unwanted.     
  
"I - It's okay, Miichan... It was only a small cut." I managed to utter in her monstrous grasp. "It wasn't your fault." I got my chin over Midori's left shoulder and eyed Kuu's downcast posture. Her crimson eyes were covered by her bangs and her small frame quivered. I knew why she was shaking like that, if Midori's overreaction was anything to go by.  "Kuuchi?"   
  
She lifted her head and joined in the involuntary group hug. "I'm sorry, Yan-chan!" Her voice was high and childish and full of tears. This was not the Himi Kuu I wanted to bear witness towards and while the two continued their apologies and remorse, I stood still and frigid. Two beings filled to the brim with emotions clung to my empty shell, crying out over an insignificant cut.   
  
How was it possible to be so overwhelmingly empathetic of another person that it affects you more than them? How does it feel to cry from your heart instead of learning it on command to save face? How come these two liked me this much when I can hardly come to like myself?   
  
There was a tinge of disappointment I experienced that day and it was possibly the closest I'll ever get to feeling something. But that disappointment came from the expectations I formed of other people and that was my mistake. Teacher was right - I needed to handle books properly, but she was too late in that advice.   
  
The bookworm Himi Kuu had hurt me long ago, and she never realized it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I think I know where I'm going with this series of my interpretation for Ayano. This should be it for the "Elementary School" arc, and then there'll be another few one shots for the "Middle School" arc, and a possible multi-chapter for the "High School" arc where the game takes place.
> 
> But, we'll see. I'd love to hear some comments about the characterization for Ayano and if it makes any sense!


End file.
